Page 16 of Christmas Wish
Savannah placed her hand on his shoulder and ambled to the doorway. The first thing she noticed was a large floor to ceiling glass cabinet filled with Iron Butterfly memorabilia. On the perpendicular wall was a large firearm collection of various sizes and designs showcased either in framed displays, iron racks, or hanging freestyle. An apprehensive shiver slid up her spine as she counted twenty-two guns.I wonder if they’re loaded. I’ll have to talk to Ryder about that.A steady scraping sound diverted her attention from the weapons to a worktable against the back wall stacked with drills, hammers, glue guns, saws, and blocks of wood.
Ryder sat on a low stool with his back to them, running sandpaper over what looked like a miniature church. In front of him were paintbrushes, small bottles of craft paint, and several train cars. Brutus lay at his feet until, suddenly, his ears perked up and a dull, thumping noise resonated as he wagged his tail with his black eyes fixed on them. Ryder looked over his shoulder then stopped what he was doing and spun around.
“Dinner already?” His gaze swept over her quickly then focused on her face.
Savannah cleared her throat. “No. Timmy said that you’re making a train set, and he wanted me to check it out. Sorry if we’re invading your space.”
Ryder clucked his tongue, his gaze never leaving hers. “You wanna see what I’m making, Timmy?” The young boy’s eyes shone as a big smile spread across his face. “Come on over here. Your mom can come too if she’s interested.”
Timmy rushed over as Savannah sauntered, happy that Ryder wasn’t perturbed. “Timmy loves trains,” she said.
“Go ahead and touch them. I’m gonna start painting them tomorrow.”
“Do they run on the track?” the boy asked.
“Yep. I’ve got a kickass motor in the locomotive, lights … the whole nine yards. Do you got a train set?”
Timmy bobbed his head up and down. “Back home. My daddy got me one, but it doesn’t work so good, does it, Mommy?”
She sank her fingers in her son’s hair. “No. The cars were made of steel and were too heavy or something for the track. It kept tipping over.”
“That sucks. Did your dad exchange it?”
Timmy hung his head down. “No. He didn’t have time. He never has time.” He stared at the caboose. “Can I see that one?”
“Sure.” Ryder picked it up and placed it in the boy’s small hand.
“It’s really smooth. Did you make it?”
“Yeah. I made all of this. I like doing it. It helps to keep me from thinking about … never mind.”
What are you keeping buried deep inside you?Savannah ran her fingertips over the smooth wood on the train car that her son had shared with her.
“Are you making it for you to play with?” Timmy asked.
“Nah. Making it for this charity the bikers run every year at Christmas for kids who don’t get any presents.”
Timmy took the caboose from his mom and put it back on the table. “Don’t their mommies and daddies love them?”
Savannah’s heart ached as she thought of how cold and indifferent Bret was to their son.
“Not all moms and dads give a shit about their kids. It sucks, but that’s the way it is. Sometimes, the parents love them but don’t have enough money to give them any toys.”
Timmy lifted his head and looked up at Savannah. “Am I getting any presents this Christmas?”
She dipped her chin down as her skin prickled up the back of her neck and across her chin. “Of course you are.”
“But no one knows where we are.”
Savannah was keenly aware of Ryder’s piercing gaze, and she pretended to be unaffected by giving a nonchalant shrug while her insides were twisting. “Santa does.”
Timmy’s eyes brightened. “Oh … yeah.”
Ryder hadn’t moved a muscle, and his quiet assessment of her, or at least that’s what she thought he was doing, bothered the hell out of her. He had no right to judge her. He didn’t know the whole story—no one did. She’d make sure Timmy had a great Christmas, and it’d be a hell of a lot better than the ones he had with an indifferent father who couldn’t give a shit about his son.
“You okay?” Ryder’s deep voice snapped her to the present. She nodded. “You sure? ’Cause your face is all red and you look real upset.” His low husky voice made her senses reel.
“I’m fine,” she said curtly, dismissing him. She lightly squeezed Timmy’s shoulder. “I’m going to go back and finish dinner.”
